Caption: Each of my six visits to the Lady Buddha has felt less like a trip and more like a spiritual homecoming.
Some places don’t just invite you; they call you.
Their presence lingers in our thoughts long after we’ve left, whispering for our return.
We can’t explain it logically; it isn’t about comfort, convenience, or curiosity.
It’s something deeper, an unseen connection between our soul and that land’s spirit.
For me, that place is Da Nang, a coastal city in central Vietnam.
Over the years, I have travelled to many destinations in search of spiritual experiences, but Da Nang feels different.
This year alone, I made six trips there; not planned, but due to an unseen pull.
Each time, I told myself it would be my last visit for the year, yet the call came again, silent but insistent, until I found myself boarding another flight.
Every time my plane descends over Da Nang’s shimmering coastline, a familiar calm envelops me.
There is something about the air, the light, and the rhythm of the sea that quietens the mind almost instantly.
As I drive past the Dragon Bridge and along the Son Tra Peninsula, anticipation rises, not the excitement of a tourist, but the joy of one returning home.
And then she appears. Towering against the sky, the Lady Buddha, the Goddess of Mercy, stands tall and serene, facing the vast ocean, blessing fishermen and all who come under her gaze.
Her statue, rising 67 metres high at the Linh Ung Pagoda, radiates an indescribable presence. From the moment I stood before her, I knew this was not just a monument; it was a living energy field, pulsating with compassion.
Each visit to the Lady Buddha is different, yet always the same in essence.
I am deeply grateful to my e-hailing driver, Hoanh, who faithfully wakes up early each morning to take me to the Lady Buddha for my 6 a.m. prayer of silence during every visit.
He considers this service not just a duty, but a blessing in his own life.
As I stand at her feet, I feel as though she is not merely looking at me but through me, seeing the unspoken, the forgotten, and the unresolved.
Her expression is gentle but powerful, a blend of stillness and strength that melts all restlessness.
The sea breeze brushes the prayer flags, bells chime in rhythm with the wind, and the scent of incense rises like a hymn.
Around me, devotees bow, light incense sticks, and whisper their prayers. Yet I often find myself simply standing in silence, no words, no petitions, just presence.
Sometimes I wonder why I keep returning. I can’t say it’s for ritual or routine. It feels more like a spiritual homecoming, as though a part of me belongs there.
There are moments when I sense that I have known this place before, perhaps in another time, another life.
I have come to believe that certain places hold spiritual imprints that resonate with specific souls.
These are not coincidences but karmic alignments, echoes from lives we may have lived or vows we once made.
When the time is right, the place calls us back, reminding us of something we once knew but forgot.
Da Nang, to me, feels like one such place. The ocean’s rhythm mirrors my inner stillness. The mountains seem to guard secrets I am yet to uncover.
The Lady Buddha’s gaze feels like a constant blessing, both a teacher and a protector.
Whenever I leave, there’s a tug at my heart, as if I’m leaving home rather than a destination. Yet, even from afar, her presence follows in dreams, in moments of quiet reflection, and in the pull that brings me back.
Beyond its temples and beaches, Da Nang has an unmistakable calmness, a balance of elements that feels perfectly aligned.
It is modern yet not hurried, spiritual yet not heavy. The people are courteous and gentle, the air is clean, and the energy is soothing.
Evenings by the coast often find me sitting quietly, watching fishing boats drift like stars upon the water.
The rhythmic waves become a form of meditation. I realise then that peace is not something we seek but something we reminisce about, and certain places help us remember faster.
When I look back on the half a dozen I made this year, I realise they were not ordinary trips; they were pilgrimages of the soul.
Each visit peeled away a layer of noise, revealing something simpler, purer, and truer within.
The Lady Buddha taught me wordlessly about patience, acceptance, and the strength of compassion.
She reminded me that the most thoughtful guidance often arrives in silence, not speech.
Perhaps the call to Da Nang was not to find something outside, but to reconnect with something within, that part of the soul that feels at home in stillness, in light, and in love.
As the year draws to a close, I find myself reflecting not just on the journeys taken but on what they’ve revealed.
I have come to understand that not every destination we visit is chosen by the mind.
The soul chooses some, and when the soul decides, the call becomes irresistible.
Da Nang called me, and I answered. And in responding, I discovered a truth that I wish to carry into the coming year: Home is not merely where we live, but where our spirit feels whole.
Perhaps that is why the Lady Buddha continues to draw me back because, in her presence, I find a piece of myself I never knew was missing.
Award-winning writer Dr T. Selva is the author of the bestsellers Vasthu Sastra Guide and Secrets of Happy Living. To get a copy, WhatsApp 019-2728464. He can be reached at drtselvas@gmail.com. Facebook: Vasthu Sastra